When I think about a performance at a record store, I have a certain scenario in mind. Maybe there's a low stage. Maybe the musicians are sitting on chairs or stools. Maybe the drummer is just playing a box or some sort of shaker. Maybe the songs are abbreviated with solos skipped and that third chorus abdicated. The set will likely be shortened to urge those in attendance to buy a record or a ticket for an actual concert later that night. There will be no special lighting and certainly no fog machines. There should never be more than one band. In my mind, in-store performances focus on the store first, then the performance. That is not how the punks at Sister Anne's Records & Coffee see things at all. They have carved out space in their shop for a large, elevated stage. They've installed a lighting rig and a sound system that bests many of the bars in the city, even those dedicated to live music. Sister Anne's doesn't have bands play to promote other events – a performance at Sister Anne's is designed to be the main event.

The night started after 8pm with Lavish. The trio is new, but it's full of familiar faces – guitarist/vocalist Zack Hames (Moon 17), bassist Mike Gustafson (Bummer), and drummer Ian Dobyns (Doubledrag et al). The band's twenty-three-minute set reflected those experiences. Volume was key and it was deafening. One of the musicians asked the audience, "Are we loud enough?" sending the room into laughter. Then another bandmate spoke up: "I think he was serious." Oh my! Hames moved a lot, stabbing and jabbing and stomping as he trashed his guitar about the stage. When he returned to the microphone he shouted his vocals. This was hardcore, but the swirling sonics provided by the threesome recalled the post-hardcore intricacies of Quicksand bolstered by the angry noise of locals like Nerver et al. This was only the act's second show, but Lavish already seems to have found its niche in the scene.

Mr. Gnome followed not long after. Anything goes for couple Nicole Barille (vox/guitar) and Sam Meister (drums/keys). In a shockingly long set, the touring duo delivered songs built on the blues but adorned with rock and soul stylings. Sometimes it was hard to keep up. Some tunes were bouncy. Some were pure ragers. Barille's voice fit both, from a warm rock tone to a forceful scream that still favored her powerful low register. Reverb and echo were constants. Meister was busy. Lots of drumstick-on-rim action. Even when he turned around to play keyboards, and percussion instead came from backing tracks, those clicks continued. When it seemed like the set may be wrapping up, the two brought out Jonah Meister to play bass. Big, fuzzy, and reverberating tones then joined Barille's riffage. Later, Meister would migrate to guitar, offering impressive stadium-sized guitar solos. The two-guitar configuration ensured the snarling riffs were ridden long and hard. The audience joined that groove – especially one fan who pressed herself against the stage, smiling, jumping, and mouthing every word. Others only danced to the hits, like the catchy "Not This Time, Devil." That one landed late enough in the set that I thought it was the finale. Honestly, I wished it had been. I was tired and my miscalculations about the structure of the night weighed heavily on my eyelids.

When it was all over, I rushed out, longing for the relative quiet of home. I had simply been in the wrong mindset for the full-blown Mr. Gnome experience. But I suspect that's all these cats know. And that's probably something else I should have known before showing up at Sister Anne's. If you catch Mr. Gnome, make sure you're up for a face melting, because that's what you're going to get.